


In Blood

by Hobsonphile



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:52:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobsonphile/pseuds/Hobsonphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bombing of Narn -- told from Vir's perspective. Missing scenes for The Long, Twilight Struggle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Avelera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelera/gifts).



Thanks to two years’ experience with Londo and his expansive moods – not to mention a _lifetime’s_ experience avoiding the ire of various disapproving relatives – Vir knew how to duck. This very fact saved him from injury when word hit Babylon 5.

It all happened so quickly that Vir didn’t even register the roars of rage, the overturning chairs, or the shattering glassware until he’d already scrambled under his table. And before his forebrain could catch up to his hindbrain, a Centauri crashed into a nearby dessert cart and tumbled to the floor beside him, moaning. Vir watched, transfixed, as blood oozed from the poor fellow’s mouth and nose.   

The station’s emergency siren kicked up, jolting Vir momentarily from his state of shock and adding to the general chaos. Then a hand grabbed Vir’s coat and yanked him from his hiding place. Vir cringed, expecting a blow, but when the owner of the hand spoke – “Mr. Cotto, you need to get out of here _right now_ ” – Vir realized it was Mr. Garibaldi who was trying to muscle him through the melee.

The vid screens on the other side of the restaurant shimmered as Commander Ivanova cut into the broadcast. “Attention all non-essential personnel and civilians: Please return to your quarters immediately. This station is under lockdown. I repeat: All non-essential personnel and civilians, return to your quarters immediately. This station is under lockdown…”

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” Vir asked.

The anger that darkened Mr. Garibaldi’s expression stopped Vir short. “Your people are bombing the hell out of the Narn homeworld, and if I don’t get you to your quarters and under armed guard, some Narn’s gonna splatter your brains all over the bulkhead.”

“ _What?_ ”  

“ _Move!_ ”

The urgent tug nearly upset Vir’s balance, but he obediently followed Mr. Garibaldi without another word.  He couldn’t think, couldn’t process the news. His head swam in a mixture of confusion, sorrow, and horror. _Great Maker, how many are we killing?_

The instant he entered his quarters, Vir hailed Centauri Prime. After several failed attempts, a harried Minister Virini finally picked up the call. By that point, Vir had almost worn a hole in his own carpet, and it was all he could do to contain himself.

“Minister, I need to speak to Ambassador Mollari immediately. It’s an emergency!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cotto, but Mollari is not here --”

“Then find him!”

“Mr. Cotto, Mollari left with Lord Refa three days ago to join the fleet headed for Narn.”

Vir couldn’t hear what Virini said next over the roaring heartsbeat in his ears. He sat down hard and, with one numb finger, closed the connection.

With a sickening click, the resolution sharpened. If Londo was with the fleet at Narn, then he knew about the attack – and quite possibly endorsed it.

It didn’t make sense. Or maybe it did. Vir wasn’t even sure anymore. Since the start of the war – no, actually, it started earlier than that, didn’t it? Since the attack on the Narn outpost in Quadrant 37, Londo had changed.  He’d grown harder. Darker. Flintier. More isolated. Before, Vir had spent many an evening searching for Londo in the casino or the strip club. Now – when _was_ the last time Londo had gone carousing? In Vir’s estimation, it’d been months.  And he’d heard Londo justifying official actions that made Vir’s blood run cold – including attacks on Narn civilians.

Vir was under no illusions. And yet, even after everything Londo had done, it hadn’t even occurred to Vir that Londo would take his hatred of the Narn _this_ far.

As more information trickled down from the front lines, Vir felt his world tilting madly on its axis. The Centauri forces were using mass drivers, violating several non-proliferation treaties. Minbar and the Earth Alliance had filed official protests. Narn’s infrastructure was almost totally destroyed. Thousands – perhaps _millions_ – were dead and dying. Everything Vir thought – everything he believed – was slipping away. By the third day, he could barely sleep – and the few times he did manage to drift into exhausted unconsciousness, he was plagued by terrible dreams.

The day Londo returned to the station, Vir was more than ready to confront him – to ask him _why?_ Once he heard that Londo’s ship had come through the jump gate, Vir walked to Londo’s quarters, flanked by two security guards, and waited, his eyes red-rimmed, his hands quivering slightly with pent up emotion. At one point, he decided to pour himself a drink from Londo’s private stores, but he couldn’t even bring himself to taste it.

When Londo finally entered, his own blue eyes were icy. Crystalline. Whatever Londo was thinking – whatever he was feeling – was hidden deep behind his public mask.

“Londo—”

“Vir, I don’t have time for this.” Londo pulled on his purple great coat and fastened his cape. “The council is waiting.”

“But Londo—”

“ _No!_ ”  The ferocity of the syllable slammed into Vir’s chest with the force of a several gravities. “Do _not_ argue, Vir, or by the gods, I _will_ have you shipped back to Centauri Prime on the next transport! _Do I make myself clear?_ ”

“Yes, sir,” Vir choked, and he knew at that moment that his sleep deficit was finally breaking him, for his eyes were suddenly – embarrassingly – wet with angry tears.

Londo swept out the door then, and Vir scrubbed his face with the back of his hand and followed in wounded silence. He followed and watched from the very back of the council room as Londo delivered the terms of Narn’s surrender.  He watched as Londo cruelly stripped G’Kar of his title and humiliated him before the League. And after G’Kar had delivered his proud and defiant reply, Vir, still keeping quiet, followed Londo back to his quarters.

But as soon as the door slid closed behind him, he exploded. “Londo, _how could you?_ Do you really hate the Narn _that much?_ What in the Great Maker’s name does this achieve?”

A beat. Then, with his back to Vir, Londo replied, “How many Centauri would’ve died if we had not ended the war swiftly, hm? How many resources would we have lost? If we had not defeated the Narn completely, _now_ , they would’ve continued to threaten our people until the heat death of the universe. Or have you forgotten what they did to our colony on Ragesh III?”

Vir sighed. “I haven’t forgotten, Londo. But how can you justify the _cost_? The innocent lives lost?”

There. He saw it – an almost imperceptible slump of Londo’s shoulders – and he clung to it like a lifeline. When Londo next spoke, his words were brittle, broken things. “Do not lecture me about the cost, Vir. I was there.” He turned at last, and Vir saw his own nightmares reflected in Londo’s eyes.

“Londo, I—” Vir stopped to gather his thoughts. “Please. _Stop this._ ” Londo released a mirthless laugh, but Vir ignored it, dogged in his determination. “Forget your death dream, forget prophecy, forget all of it. Whatever you may think, nothing is set in stone!”

“And what would you have me do, Vir, hm? Crawl to G’Kar on my hands and knees and beg for his forgiveness? Surely even you are not naïve enough to believe that is possible.” Londo shook his head. “No. I cannot stop this, Vir. Whatever _you_ may think, it _is_ too late to go back now. Now go. Leave me in peace.”

“No.”

Londo glared at Vir, but then softened and smiled sadly. “You are being a fool.”

“Then so be it. You need me.”

Alas, it wasn’t long before Vir finally succumbed to the strain of the past few days and passed out on Londo’s sofa. When he woke up from a restless slumber a few hours later, Londo was gone. On the table was a glass of brivari. It had been left completely untouched.

 **End.**   

**Author's Note:**

> The title, by the way, comes from a line in Macbeth that always reminds me of Londo when I read it:
> 
> I am in blood/ Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more,/ Returning were as tedious as go o'er.


End file.
